"So we just confirmed that we both remember the other timeline, didn't we?"

It sounded casual enough because he always made everything sound so casual. So utterly incidental, like I should have seen it coming. Like the laws of nature had been bidding us to come to this moment.

I did expect this though. Ever since that damn question slipped out of my mouth I had predicted this.

For a moment, I considered playing dumb, but it was useless when it was already so obvious anyway.

I sighed tiredly. "Can we not talk about it now?"

"Then, when will you want to talk about it?"

"We will talk about it someday. I promise. But I can't have this conversation right now."

"May I ask why you keep on avoiding this topic when it's clear that we both are already aware of the truth?"

I let out a frustrated grunt at his question and stared at him in contempt.

But the childish anger of mine passed only after a few seconds, replaced diligently with self-loathing.

How could I hate him for saying the truth when all I offered him were lies? Or half-truths. Some half-godforsaken truths.

It was actually my fault because I was the weak one. I knew I could never sustain my rationality, my hard-earned level-headedness if I just let go now, that's why I kept avoiding it.

Shit, I should have stopped myself earlier. This is a bad idea.

Bad ideas equaled bad decisions, then added in mismatched people and loneliness, and then you got it: Vulnerability. Vulnerability and how it was a gateway to being breakable. And once you break there is no way back to being fixed or normal or... right.

I looked up at the golden canopy of his bed, trying hard to suppress my tears that were already threatening to fall again. I didn't want to cry anymore. I had enough of crying today.

"Because I'm fucking scared, alright?" I finally spat the words like venom as if it was a taboo word for me. Calypso and scared shouldn't be in the same sentence. At least it shouldn't be said out loud like this.

Arsen's eyes widened at my confession. He probably found it surprising too. "Scared of—"

"I'm scared of myself!" I cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "I told you before, didn't I? I still have many things that I need to do. That's why we can't—no, I can't. Because I'm fucking scared I will shatter and forget what I should be doing if we talk about it right now."

There, I said it, the accursed words. And I couldn't pretend it was anything else.

I, Calypso Berenice, was scared. I was scared that once I let myself go, I would never want to come out of my warm wonderland, and that I would have to face the cold reality.

So I raised my chin and looked right into his eyes and held my gaze in an attempt to preserve my determination. I noticed how his pupils dilated by a fraction, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he seemed to let my words sink in.

"I would like to stay faithful to my rage and vice," I added darkly, chest heaving from my confession. "Can you understand this?"

Arsen watched me back, mouth slightly agape like he had a hard time finding the right words to say. It took him a few more seconds to finally reply, "Yes. I won't ask again. At least not until you're ready. But can I ask something else instead?"

I contemplated before answering, "Let me hear the question first. I won't promise I'd answer though."

"Will this... will this be a continuous battle for you until you reach your goal?"

"Yes," I answered almost immediately.

"Alright. The only thing I can tell you is, I hope you win." Then, slowly, he reached out to me and held my hand gently in his. "Just don't forget that I'm always on your side, Calypso. You can lean on me, you know. You can use me."

My breath caught in my throat. I shook my head lightly, and a little smile of irony graced my lips. "Too bad, I'm not looking for a charming prince in shining armor. What I need is not a prince, but a henchman who will join me in this battle."

"Then I'll be your henchman."

"What—what?"

He smiled reassuringly and opened his mouth again. "I'll join the battle. Just tell me what you want me to do. How do you want me to do it? Who do you want me to kill first? Just use me however you want, Calypso." The words that came out didn't match his soft and gentle tone.

"Don't make a promise you can't keep, Arsen," I scoffed.

Don't make me hope! That's just troublesome. Hoping is troublesome.

"What do you mean?"

"What if I told you to hurt Phoebe? Or even kill her? Would you do it?"

Arsen was silent; his lips slightly parted and his body went rigid before he finally answered, "I'm not gonna lie and say that I don't wish for you to spare her because in some way I still have pity for her."

I just sneered bitterly at his confession. I felt like throwing up.

See, he can't even do—

"But..." He hesitated again for a moment before continuing, "If I do that, will that make you happy?"

Huh?

"Maybe?" I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know if I'm capable of feeling happy anymore. But once everything is over, I wish to be happy enough that I could die. I want to be happy just by that much."

It was when I stole a glance at him again that I saw a tear fall down the side of his face, rolling across his cheekbone that was softly illuminated under the magic stones. It was the second time he shed tears for me just this night alone.

I couldn't help but notice how he looked so fragile at that moment. So delicate... but at the same time, this was the guy who had the world on his shoulders, but he wasn't Atlas. He was Arsen. Just Arsen.

"That bastard, he must have broken his promise. I begged him with my life not to touch you, but—" He murmured to himself almost inaudibly, but I could still hear it and I was... shocked.

"What?"

"He promised he won't touch you if I surrender myself—"

I couldn't believe what I just heard. "You did that for me? Not for—not for Phoebe? You didn't give up the empire for her?"

He somehow looked offended. "Of course not. I would be too ashamed to face you if I give up the empire for one woman. Hah... Why did you think I felt so guilty for her and tried to save her?" He blinked his eyes with a painful expression. "But if it's you—"

Something hard and old and... annihilating broke inside of me. A foreboding sense of—of something that I couldn't put a name on.

Did he just say that he didn't give up for Phoebe but for me?

It was the moment we both jerked our heads to each other at the same time that our eyes connected.

"That's right, none of this matters. We only ever had each other anyway, so fuck everyone else. What matters is you." He wiped his eyes, his voice turning harder as if he was getting himself together, but it quivered. "I'll do it. Whatever you want, I'll do it like a royal command. Anything at all."

My eyes snapped toward him with intensity.

A second later, I burst into laughter. I didn't know why I laughed, but I laughed so hard to the point that I teared up.

"You're crazy," I finally said as my laughter subsided. "This whole world is crazy."

For all this time, I thought he had abandoned me for Phoebe but he... was that even true anymore?

I bit my lip. I could feel it in my eyes, tears stinging. It just seemed so pitiful, the two of us.

The reason for our falling out and ruined relationship in the first timeline... I always thought it was about you, but now I realized, it was me. I didn't tell you my inner feelings and demanded that you figure it out yourself.

There were many things we wouldn't know unless we expressed them, so why did we expect each other to realize those things without saying anything?

Oh, how silly of me...

I thought I had enough experience reading novels with misunderstanding tropes to avoid the same route myself, but it seemed like this world had a strange way to lead us there somehow. Combine it with my fucking pride, and bam, you got it, a fucking misunderstanding.

I didn't even notice the growl that escaped my lips as I looked outside the windows, another wave of rage for this fucking book world was boiling inside of me.

I did everything I could—everything—and still, everything was a mess.

This world isn't just affecting me to make sure that the story is followed. It's affecting everyone!

Are we all just puppets to you?

Not only that, but you also treated me as the carpet on which all those fucking main characters could walk on, and when I demanded acknowledgment of my pain, what I got was counter-rage; contemptuous scorn to put me back into my place.

How dare you? How dare you do this to people? Why should I be miserable? Hey, tell me, why the fuck should I live miserably just so the heroine and male lead can get together to make sure your fucking saint is going to be born again? Does that mean you want to sacrifice me for that bitch?

Hah, you must be kidding yourself. I won't let you! I won't let you get what you want, you hear that?

Arsen seemed to notice my sudden change of expression and looked at me in alarm. "Did I say something wrong again?"

My head snapped toward him. I closed my eyes before opening them again as I tried to school my expression. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm just being overdramatic. That's what we Elloids do best after all."

I brought my palm to his chest, feeling his heart beating fast.

Was he that nervous that I would snap at him again?

"I'm being over-dramatic because things aren't going my way. They never do. And you know how much I hate it when things don't go my way."

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice trembling as if acknowledging that he was part of what made my life miserable.

And his voice, the tremor, the guilt, it permeated my skin. It prickled me like the starling warmth of his body against mine. It broke me as I clutched his shirt in my fist, breathing on his chest.

"Oh God, how did we end up here again?" His voice was full of frustration.

"We're so annoying, aren't we? Always running around in circles and then back to square one." I chuckled.

"I know, Calypso." He pulled me closer and rested his chin on top of my head. "It's all—it feels staged sometimes, doesn't it? Us, assuming the worst of each other?"

You have no idea how accurate that is.

If only you know that this world was a book.

That this damn fucking world was like a cage with unwritten laws of tragedies ending in travesty, and it was as inevitable as the sharp, lacerating fate of a curse.

"If our story was a novel, I think the reader would throw the book in the fireplace out of frustration. Those misunderstanding tropes are very overrated," I said bitterly.

Arsen turned to me and smiled. "Then let's try not to get our book burned, shall we?"

I watched him. The crawling pang of warmth rose again an allergic reaction—a reaction to his smile—and I pursed my lips because I would not allow this, whatever that was.

Oh, what do I do? This is dangerous.

Being with him was intoxicating. It was addicting. It was scary.

Because what if you love what you love, and you wrap yourself so tightly around that thing that the day it vanishes you just coil in on yourself, alone, empty, and pathetic?

So here it goes: I loved him. Like crazy. Like wildfire. Like something I should be afraid of. It burned my throat; love melted my insides until I didn't have anything solid to weigh me down. Until I was just a bundle of nerves and tissues and blood. And heart. Heart, because that was where these things happened, right? Metaphorically, of course. Because I know it was your brain that sent signals to your other important organs. The brain decides to fight or flight at the threat of some danger and your heart rate increases, your pupils dilate, blood is pumped faster, instinct kicks in, and you do something very very daring or very very stupid. Or both. Both.

I looked at Arsenio Arcturus and my brain couldn't decide whether to fight or flight.

What is there to fight for?

Everything.

I had been around cold and emotionally detached people since I was born.

So of course it was nice when someone like him came into my life. Bright eyes, flushed cheeks. Always fumbling, always carrying on anyway as if he didn't fumble, as if he didn't smirk and splatter his intentions—plain, obvious intentions—all around everything he did. He really didn't have a subtle bone in his body. He said ridiculous things that made me snort and made him laugh in retaliation. In answer.

He had that aura of confidence; the soft kind—the kind that seeped into your skin and rattled the cold bones and made you wonder how it would feel to be like him.

Everything about him just sounded so much like a possibility, so much like a string I wanted to hold onto. Because, doesn't it feel... nice?

So it wasn't my fault that I couldn't help it, you know.

I wanted him. The male lead. The sacrificial lamb, the stupid hero, the lonely boy. Him with his tired eyes and bright smile, with his ridiculous bravery and recklessness and the terror it caused him.

But...

Wanting him was cutting something in me, like cutting out a tumor in one's body. I felt raw and vulnerable and relieved. I felt as though I was pouring all my inhibitions into the hollow of his chest, and I was free. Well, mostly.

There was still the terrible itch that all the best times of my life had been lost to a phantom, and all I had left was this dark hollow space.

Some think trauma makes people strong.

Unfortunately, I don't.

***

We were currently lying on his bed, and for once, we couldn't care less about the fact that we probably should be up doing our duties by now.

It was fun to see the expression on the aide's face when they saw the two of us in his room. News of the empress spending the night in the emperor's bedroom for the first time since their marriage would surely spread like wildfire in no time.

Arsen was beside me, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist and we were still talking—or more like he was talking this time and I listened. He must've been very tired as well because his words were more nonsensical by now.

"So we're all going to be sinners, aren't we?" He mumbled, eyes droopy.

"Is that important?"

"No. Not really. At least not for me. But you... you're always a devoted believer." He furrowed his brows as if saying something he was scared to say. "And I heard that being a sinner means you can't receive God's forgiveness."

I blinked at him and a second later burst into a scratching laugh.

Oh my dear male lead, your childhood must have been a meadow of roses. Even after all the hell you went through, you're still able to say something so naive.

"There's no way god would be so interested in me that he wouldn't forgive me," I retorted in between laughing.

After all, if god was interested in me, he would have come up with something when I was tormented by this hell-like world.

I recalled the kidnapping incident that happened just a few hours ago. It hadn't been god who protected me when I was in danger, but something closer to the devil. Yeah, the devil who was living rent-free inside my head.

That was why, all these main characters would be punished by me, and I, myself, would be punished.

"I will remain a sinner and live as I please," I declared.

It was silent for a while before he dipped his head a little and now he was staring into my eyes.

"Are you going to hell at the end?"

I nodded my head without hesitation.

"I don't think I'm the only one going there, so I won't be lonely."

Constantine, Phoebe, Leon, Electra—well probably not Electra because she was a god-chosen saint—my father, mother, uncle, Xavier, and even Arsen were the reserve inhabitants of hell.

Thinking about that somehow brought me huge comfort.

He pressed his lips together and spoke again, "Then, that's where I'm going too."

Ah, how nice...

I smiled.

We were talking about such depressing topics, and yet, I smiled. It was the confident smile of someone who already knew.

Of course you're going with me, dear...

Delicately, he reached out for a lock of my hair that had fallen over my face and tucked it behind my ear. He looked at me with sad, half-open eyes, but he also had a smile on his face; the same bitter smile as mine.

And then he hugged me. I could feel the weight of his arm on my torso, and the warmth that radiated from his body.

It's really different when you sleep beside someone. Because there is a special agreement, isn't there? Here I am most defenseless. Most vulnerable. Most humane. You can see not only the person but also the baggage that comes with them and run and reject it.

But Arsen stayed.

And that was the moment I came up with this conclusion.

If being together tormented me, yet without him, it would be equally painful... If both options feel like death, wouldn't it be better to suffer together?

Yes.

Definitely.

I took a deep breath as I buried myself deeper into his embrace.

Oh, how I wish it could be all good and easy.

Unfortunately, there were gods out there who neither liked me nor, apparently, him as well. Restless, petty gods. The types who liked to play with people's fate as they saw fit.

***

Author's Note:

Sorry for the late update. I've been away for Christmas holiday with my family and I didn't bring my laptop, so I couldn't update.

But anyway, we've got another Arsen and Calypso's moment here, and Calypso finally found out that Arsen didn't die for Phoebe but for her. I know it might not change many things, but at least we knew who Arsen care more. Please let me know what you think about this chapter.

Oh, a little announcement. I just received an invitation to join the creator program. I only replied to them a few days ago. Nothing is certain yet, but we'll see.

Last but not least, thank you for all your support. I really appreciate you guys.

The theme song for this chapter is Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey